


Draw you in

by yukiawison



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 10:14:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2543867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukiawison/pseuds/yukiawison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras finds Grantaire's sketchbook.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Draw you in

"You can look," Courfeyrac teased. "Just don't wake him up." Enjolras scowled and turned restlessly back to his work. Grantaire's breathing was soft and he looked quite peaceful slumped over the table. The tempting item to which Courfeyrac was referring was the drunk's sketchbook, the volume was open but R's arm was draped over the page. Viewing the drawings was not possible from any angle. He had tried.

  
"I wouldn't want to...I mean do you think he'd mind all that much?" Courf shrugged and waved goodbye.

  
"You know where I'll be if you need me," he finished, stepping from the Musain into the damp Paris streets.

  
"Yeah at Jehan's," He huffed. Good luck getting between those two. He scrawled a few more inky letters onto his page before eyeing Grantaire's sleeping form again. The Café Musain had cleared now, the night so dark even he'd be stumbling through the streets. One look wouldn't do anything. One look and he'd never know.

  
The revolutionary reached for the cynic's book gingerly, sliding it from his grasp with ease. "I suppose I should start at the beginning," Enjolras thought aloud, turning to the front page as quietly as he could. The page had a fancily written capital R, all grays and blacks...but wait was that some red mixed in with the other colors? It reminded him of how gently R had handled the red flags the ABC made despite his need to scoff at every idea in the meetings.

  
The second page was covered in sketches of the ABC members. Combeferre's eyes focused in a book, Jehan writing poetry as Courferyrac watched, Joly taking his own temperature...and all the rest.

  
Enjolras was in the center though, holding the French flag proudly. His eyes were toward the sky and his blonde waves of hair fell over his shoulders like gold cloth. He looked like a god. Somehow he was the only one the drunk had drawn in color. His flag and vest were a brilliant red that seemed to enhance his godliness. Enjolras had to turn the page to quiet the blush rising in his cheeks. But not before glancing at the bottom of the drawing: I met Apollo today.

  
The beginning pages were more of the same, mostly Enjolras with some cartoonish drawings of the others for Courfeyrac's amusement. The one of Enjolras sleeping was striking. R had managed to capture the light that caught in his long eyelashes. He wasn't sure whether to feel violated or flattered.

  
All of the sketches had a line or two of writing beneath them. Enjolras's favorite so far was a picture of himself bathed in flame. Blood ran down his cheek and his eyes were filled with passion. The page read: I fought with him again. He probably hates me but I'm just worried about him. It was hard to ignore words like those and he turned the page rather reluctantly. As he went on the sketches got sloppier...shaky drunken hands he supposed. Taire had been drinking a lot more nowadays. He was nearing the end of the book and this was the last full page.

  
No...no he was wrong. This was the best drawing. Enjolras was hunched over the table, brow furrowed with one hand smoothing back his mess of golden hair. He looked frustrated (and since R had drawn this tonight he knew this was true.) But the most enchanting thing about the sketch was that for the first time the god looked human. Enjolras found himself grinning as he admired the sketch. He held up the book to view it as if from a gallery. Yet his eyes turned to the splotch where the line of writing should have been.  
It looked like Taire had written something in pencil, erased it, and then smudged over it with ink. He brought the paper closer to his face. Staring at the thing, however furiously, resulted in only watery eyes and a sigh of frustration. "Well that's just great, an unsolved mystery," He muttered, holding the book at a different angle. He could make out an I...and was that a T?

  
"Do you want to know what it said?" Enjolras jumped, sending the book flying and crashing back to the table.

  
"Grantaire I'm sorry I shouldn't have pried I just..."

  
"It's okay," Taire replied sourly, taking a gulp from the bottle beside him. "You were bound to find out eventually."

  
"What is that supposed to mean?" He tried to keep his tone neutral but the way Grantaire had belittled his own artwork made him angry. "These are beautiful R, you should be proud."

  
Grantaire laughed roughly and tilted his dark hair to one side. "Do you want to know what it said?" he repeated, eyes daring Enjolras to say yes.

  
"Yes," he replied nervously.

  
"It said I think I'm in love with him." The silence didn't last long enough for Enjolras to formulate a response...at least not an adequate one.

  
"Taire I..."

  
"Pathetic I know. Obsessively drawing you, scrawling sappy messages, I'm a freak."

  
"You're not..."

  
"I'm in love with someone I'll never have. You're married to the revolution," he smiled sadly, taking yet another drink from his nearly empty bottle. "Even if you did have time for love you'd never choose me. I'm nothing but a drunk cynic. Gods don't love mortals lower that dirt," Enjolras could see tears in his eyes. "And this..." He picked up the sketchbook. "Well this is just torturous. It's like I can't draw anything else." He threw the book open and ripped out the last page, crumpling it in his hand and throwing it to the floor.

  
"Calm down R."

  
"Don't give me that shit Enjolras; don't you dare humor me." He snatched up the bottle and stumbled out the door.

  
"R!" Enjolras found himself choking on tears. No, it can't end like this. He grabbed the notebook and picture and took off into the darkness.

  
"Stop Grantaire." Grantaire continued to stumble down the street, his sobs audible. He took yet another swig of liquor and sunk into the brick of the building.  
"Leave me alone," he slurred, still inching along the building's exterior.

  
"Listen to me," Enjolras said, more forceful than any of his speeches. The cynic was silent. Enjolras flattened out the crushed drawing. "This is amazing," he said simply, voice gentle. "Your work is brilliant, full of vision and...love. But I'm not an artist Taire, I can't express myself the way you can."

  
"My drawings are nothing more than disgusting fantasies."

  
"They're not disgusting fantasies. You're not disgusting R," He hesitated. "If I could draw with your passion I would..."

  
"You would what?" R hiccuped.

  
Enjolras flushed and fumbled with his words. "I would...I mean what I'm trying to say is...R I would draw you. I would show you how wonderful you are. I'd show you how much I love you." He spat, looking straight at Grantaire. Anxious energy pulsed through him.

  
"You're lying," but his voice trembled, unsure. He took another sip with shaking hands.

  
"Put down the bottle Taire."

  
"You can't be serious. You don't..."

  
"Give it to me now." Grantaire cradled the bottle and curled into a ball.

  
"Fine but you're coming with me. I'm not leaving you." Enjolras scooped up Grantaire and carried him down the dark street.

  
"Do you really mean it. Do you...love me?" He whispered like the very idea was a secret. Enjolras ran his hand through the other man's curls and smiled when he looked up at him.  
"You're really important to me. When I look at you if feels right. There is something in the way you infuriate me and argue with me but keep me rooted. You worry about me and I feel like there's a reason to live. When I'm with you I have something more than the revolution." You've been spending too much time with Jehan. Enjolras re-positioned Grantaire in his arms and leaned his face close. "I shouldn't have waited so long to tell you that." He kissed him.

  
"Pinch me if I'm dreaming. Don't torture me dream Enjolras."

  
He laughed "You're not dreaming, but I'm not carrying you up these stairs. Reality Enjolras doesn't have very strong arms." He let him down but Grantaire caught his arm around Enjolras's waist, drawing him in for a kiss that tasted like wine and made his chest burn. It took them awhile to reach the top of the stairs. Grantaire was swaying rather drunkenly now that his adrenaline wasn't pumping. Enjolras supported him, easing him up the last few steps quietly.

  
"We're here," he whispered, opening the door to his flat. The floor was littered with books, squashed drafts of speeches, and old schoolwork. Red clothing laid about.  
"Just like I pictured," R ginned. Enjolras pried the bottle from his hands and led him to his bed. Both men were used to sleeping in their clothes: Grantaire because he had passed out and Enjolras because he was too busy to change. Grantaire curled close to his Apollo and the two fell asleep smiling.

  
"Hmm what are you doing?" Enjolras had just realized the absence of R's limbs tangled with his.  
"Drawing you, go back to sleep okay?"

  
"How can you draw? You must have a massive hangover." He closed his eyes none the less.

  
"I can always draw you."

  
"I'll hold still but you have to promise me something."

  
"What?"

  
"I'm human, draw me as such."

  
"Your imperfections are your most striking strengths. How could I leave them out?" He teased.

  
"Thank you."

  
"Anything for love."

  
"Are you done yet?"

  
"Yeah do you want to see?"

  
"Of course," he sat up and looked at himself.

  
"Do you see the line underneath?"  
"Turns out he loves me too." Enjolras read with a stupid grin. He stretched, putting his arms out over his head and yawning. "I never thought it would happen that way," he said at last. "I thought Courfeyrac would force me to man up and tell you how I feel by stealing my notes for a meeting or something." Grantaire stood up, laughing and smoothing his unruly curls.

  
"I didn't think I'd get so emotional. Well on some level I knew I would but...sorry." It felt good to talk about this now. Now that neither one of them was hiding things.  
"Don't put yourself down like that again understand?" But Enjy looked so ridiculously serious he choked back laughter as he nodded.

  
"Promise." There was a knock at the door. R looked at it slyly before rising, pressing his shirt with his hands, and opening the door. "Speak of the devil!" There stood Courfeyrac, arms folded in front of him with a feigned look of anger. The look was quickly replaced with a knowing smile that widened Grantaire's grin.

  
"Oh hello there Grantaire, what could you possibly be doing here?"

  
"How can I help you Courf?"

  
"Just wondering why our fearless leader isn't at the Amis this morning. Now I see why so I'll be on my way."

  
"Okay," R replied. "See you later." He closed the door but could still hear Courfeyrac's excited "Yes!" in the hallway. No doubt the whole club would know by the end of the day.  
"You coming Taire?" And with the not so strange smile tugging at his lips he reminded himself how much he didn't care.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ghosts of fan fiction past!


End file.
